


Thank you for meeting me

by OrphanText



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Domestic, Gen, M/M, POV First Person, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrphanText/pseuds/OrphanText
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Him, my name was Fuku.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank you for meeting me

**Author's Note:**

> Partially inspired by She and her Cat.
> 
> Also a mishmash of several WIPs I have, but the pairing's different, and in that story Hakuba's a doctor instead of a detective. The premise of this came from my idea where Shinichi keeps a very violent pikachu (look PGO is really cool I love psyducks) that he took off a murder victim (later he passes the very difficult pikachu off to his equally difficult brother and dumps both on Kuroba for babysitting but that's also another story).

He comes home when the light is dark, and the moving train is a streak of light weaving amongst the neighborhood in the distance. I hear him, first by the jangle of keys, quiet rustling by the door, and then a click as light floods back in. Abandoning my spot by the window, I run up to Him in greeting, and He pushes me away so He can get at His shoes. On His clothes, there’s the smell of faraway places, of people, and He pats me on the head when I question the bag of files and paper He’s taken home again.

 _Hush_ , He says, but He doesn’t stop patting me with a smile on His face. _I’ll make us some food now. Did you miss me?_

I did, but I didn’t know how much until He is back here with me. I follow Him into the kitchen, both happy and hungry, and He says something about my being in the way, getting between His legs while He’s cooking. 

_I think you’ve gained a little weight recently. Is it the tuna I’ve been feeding you?_

Tuna is delicious.

_You can afford to lose a little weight._

I disagree, vocally, but it seems His mind is set.

::

His life is organized into neat, seldom varying blocks of time. In the morning, I watch the sun slowly climb, and He will wake up only after the alarm clock has rung for the third time. Sometimes I help it by sitting on Him or meowing, sometimes I don’t. Slowly, as the apartment gets brighter, He washes up, gets ready for work, never forgetting to greet me with a soft fond smile that I’ve seen on the first day He saw me hiding in the folds of winter clothing in my old owner’s closet. Sometimes, I wonder if I will see Her again. The last time I saw Her, She was sleeping on the floor even though She never sleeps in the afternoon, a spilled glass of water next to her. He had found me, and taken me home with Him, so I suppose She is still sleeping after all. She will like Him, I think, because He is warm, and kind, and big. I hope that one day, She will visit, and then I can go home.

Breakfast is milk, crunchy cereal, and sometimes toast. I watch Him eat from the far corner of the room, and then follow Him as He picks out His shirt, His tie. He doesn’t wear perfume, not the way She does, but I like the smell of His hair gel when He uses it. I think it’s not unlike grooming.

When He leaves, He takes the files and papers with Him. I see Him off at the door, and He usually says goodbye by touching my ears which I hate but tolerate, and then I’m all on my own until evening.

It’s fun having the place to myself, but it’s better when He’s here with me.

At night, after dinner, when He smells clean again, not of places and people, I sit with Him at his desk, and He looks at glossy photos of people and official looking papers while I try to coax Him into playing with him. It usually doesn’t work, but now and then, if I’m lucky, He might sigh, and pick me up so I can better see what He is doing.

Usually, I’m the first to sleep. He never sleeps early.

Routines are comforting.

::

_No, I’m terribly sorry. A mistake - Please give me more time._

In the living room, I bat at a brightly coloured ball until the call is over, and He can pay attention to me. He looks tired, these days, and He doesn’t stand up as tall or as straight. He returns home only when most of the houses outside are dark, and there is only the train. 

He picks me up, and I prick Him lightly with my claws so that He knows I don’t like being picked up, but will let Him as long it’s only Him. 

_I’ve made such a mess of it_ , He tells me. _That’s a first, for me_.

I mew, hoping that he will pet me or something. He talks, and I listen, even though I don’t quite understand fully. I don’t think He made a mess. He’s good and gentle and kind. Maybe He will feel better if He plays with me, eats a little more, and sleeps.

_Well, I suppose you don’t really care, do you? You’re just a cat._

I’m a cat, but that doesn’t mean that I do not care. Food is important, but so is He, when He’s tired and sick and sad.

_I just don’t know why I have to work with him. Even after so many years - it’s difficult._

Again, I mew. If there is anyone that He doesn’t like, I will gladly fight them for Him if just for the pleasure of being able to properly scratch someone again. 

_Life is so simple for you, Leo. I wish I were a cat too._

He says this as He pets me, and I hope that He will never turn into a cat. There won’t be anyone to feed me or to hold me if He does, then.

::

Today, He doesn’t go in to work.

Curious about this new development, I tail Him around the house, demanding answers and attention. 

_Let’s go for a walk_ , He says, and produces what I later learn is a leash. _You’re quite fat._

I’m not a dog, good grief. _  
_

::

Outside, the sky is blue and I’m more than pleased to be able to feel the wind in my fur, hissing at the cars when they come a little too close to me. From afar, they’re alright, but up close they are just big and smelly and noisy. 

_Don’t run off now_ , He says. He’s paying more attention to his phone than me, but being outside is exciting, so I don’t mind too much, and walk Him.

His neighbourhood is busy, full of people - interesting. I run on ahead - as far as the leash allows me to go, and weave between people’s legs as He shouts from behind me. 

_Oh, is he walking a cat?_

_They’re so cute together -  
_

_Do you think he speaks Japanese? If I ask for a picture -_

Before I can hiss, He’s picking me up into his arms, making those quiet shushing noises I like even though I’m leaving muddy paw prints all over His shirt. I don’t like it when there is too many people, and the way they’re suddenly watching unsettles me.

 _He’s shy, I’m sorry_ , He says. _Don’t touch him, but you can have one photo_.

I don’t want a photo. I heard one of them call me fat, too. They’re not very nice people.

 _Don’t be willful, Leo,_ He scolds gently when they’re gone, but his hands are gentle as ever. _Do you want to go to the park?_

I’ve never been to a park. I do.

_If only he’s as easy to understand as you are, Leo._

::

Recently, perhaps to keep me from noticing that He’s paying less attention to me, He’s bought home a bag full of feathery toys that are quicker than I am, and in a short word - annoying. I shred them with my claws, and leave the remains at His feet. Too busy with His phone, He doesn’t notice.

He’s better, at least. Busier, too - always running out of the house and coming home to catch His breath before dinner, sitting back against the wall and looking like He’s spent the entire day catching mice, tired but still smiling. He eats more, while my own portion becomes lesser, and He doesn’t bring home the files and papers anymore. Time after dinner is spent sitting in front of the television while He talks nonsense to me. Sometimes, He says things in a language that I do not understand, and I think He, too, must have come from a place that is very faraway. 

He tells me stories, most of them about a friend that He knew, and tells me that I resemble them a lot even though I am a cat. 

_Is it better if we’ve never met?_ He muses, one hand around me and with His nose pressed up to my fur. I flick my tail. _I’m sure things would have turned out very differently_. _Maybe I would have stood a chance, then_. _But I’ve come to terms with that now_. _Now I’m talking to cat._

I like it when He talks to me. I think I’m very lucky to have met Him, and thinks that whoever has taken up so much of His precious time with me knows it too.

They’re very lucky.

::

I don’t know what happened, but when He came home with His fur all ruffled I knew that something bad must have happened. He didn’t look at me, barely touched me but for a gentle push to the side so He can get to the fridge. Instead of dinner, He spends the night drinking a sharp and bitter smelling liquid while I sit at His feet. He’s not smiling, but smells of salt when He does pick me up so I will stop mewing. He’s wet, as well, and I hate getting my coat wet, but He’s not laughing, or smiling, so I let Him cry on me. The phone He likes to check so often is left far away on the kitchen counter. In between crying, He tells me gibberish, and repeats a name.

I don’t want to resemble anyone who can make Him cry like that. I curl my tail around his hand, and tries to comfort Him the best way I can. 

There wasn’t any dinner that night.

::

_Is that - are you Leo?_

From my comfortable spot under a bush, a stranger peers at me. His voice is new, and my nose doesn’t recognize him. When he reaches for me, I hiss.

_You look a heck load like Leo, though. Come here, kitty. Here._

I hiss, again, but he doesn’t leave. When I try to run, he grabs onto me firmly, and I yowl.

_Good God, stop - ow!_

I thrash, turn, dig my claws into him. I hate being picked up, and he isn’t Him. 

_Your master’s worried about you - stop fighting me you fatty! Oi - Saguru! Is this yours?  
_

_You found him?_

At the sound of His voice, I freeze. 

_Leo!_

Quickly, I change hands, and He’s squeezing me harder than I prefer it. I squirm. His eyes are red, and He presses his nose against me, kissing me on the top of my head, whispering fervently.

_I thought I lost you. I’ve been looking for you all over. Don’t scare me like that again, Leo._

I am the one who has been looking for Him. I did not know that home was a difficult, complicated place to get back to, but now that He’s here, it doesn’t matter.

_Keep a closer eye on him, yeah?_

_I can’t thank you enough_ , He says. _Hattori_.

My ears prick up. While I do not recognize him, He has said his name more than enough times for me to remember it. This is person whom He thinks I look like, and who made Him cry and fall sick.

 _He’s very vicious for such a fat cat, huh_. Hattori reaches a hand out - presumably to touch me, and I lash out my claws at him. _Yikes_.

 _I’m trying to get him to lose weight. Don’t touch him, he’s terribly shy around strangers_. He pets me, scratches me behind the ears even though I’m dirty, and I purr quietly. _It’s okay now, Leo. I’m sorry the lightning frightened you._

 _Maybe you just have to remember to lock your door properly, next time_.

 _I had more pressing things on my mind_ , He says, and I remember why I ran out that day. Sometime while I was trying to find my way back, I had lost the brightly coloured thing people like to wear on their heads. He seems happy now, so He probably doesn’t mind that I’ve lost it. I will get Him something else next time.

They take me home, and He doesn’t stop touching me or whispering to me. The attention is nice, but after a while, it gets annoying. I wriggle out of his arms and leap down to the floor the moment we’re home, and He turns to this Hattori, smiling the smile He usually reserves for me.

_I really cannot thank you enough. Even though I called you at that time of the night -_

_You know that what you think I think about you isn’t true, don’t you?_

A quiet gasp, and when I turn, Hattori’s has Him in his arms, and it looks like he’s trying to eat Him. It must hurt, because He is making these quiet noises, and quickly, immediately, I dash over and sink my claws deep into Hattori’s leg. I don’t like him, and I like him even lesser for hurting Him.

_Oh my God get your cat off me -_

I’m picked up again, and He’s looking too red in the face. For good measure, I hiss once more just to have Hattori recoil from me. Good. 

_He isn’t usually like this - why don’t you come in? I’ll get you a - something to treat your wounds with. I’m so sorry.  
_

_These? These’ll heal. But I do want to talk to you… to clear up some misunderstandings, if you will._

_Oh. Please… do come in, then. Forgive the mess_.

I yowl when I’m shut into the bedroom, and pace the space before the door. What if he attacks Him again? I want to be there to defend Him, just in case he makes Him sad and sick again. In the end, my worry is for naught, and he leaves, leaving just the both of us alone again as it should be.

 _Well_ , He says, when he comes to retrieve me. _Do you suppose you will like him? You will be seeing a little more of Hattori, I think_. _You’ve frightened him_. 

Good. I should be respected, and feared.

_Let’s get you clean again, shall we?_

Quietly, safe in His arms, I purr. I hope He knows that I am hungry, and that I will get some tuna for dinner.

I am just a cat, and there isn’t much that I can understand or do. But I have Him, so He has me too.

Tomorrow will be better.

I can’t wait for tomorrow.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fuku the lucky cat! I adapted him after a stray tabby who's the most talkative, affectionate, biggest black cat I've ever had the luck to know.
> 
> For those of you who are still a little confused about how Saguru came to live with Fuku:
> 
> Saguru adopted him from a girl who was murdered in her own house. He was the detective on the case, and then when none of her family wanted the cat, he took him. He has no idea he's called Fuku, unfortunately.


End file.
